


(ON HIATUS) Worth a Thousand Words (or: Bucky Takes a Picture for Steve)

by CaptainSteeb



Series: Steve and Bucky Try To Function [13]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpine the Cat, Catholic Steve Rogers, Domestic Avengers, F/M, Gen, Humor, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Jewish Bucky Barnes, M/M, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, bad language words
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-18
Updated: 2020-12-18
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:35:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,553
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28151739
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaptainSteeb/pseuds/CaptainSteeb
Summary: Steve wants a nice picture of Bucky for his office.Bucky goes on a journey to take the perfect picture, and runs into a few challenges on the way.----“So,” Bucky said that night, content with Steve’s head in his lap as they watched A Charlie Brown Christmas, “when you say you want a picture of me? Do you mean formal or, uh, candid, or what?”Steve, engrossed in his movie and snacking on a 5 pound package of assorted deli meat, hummed in response. “Uh, I dunno, Buck. Just not one where you’re lookin’ like a schmuck, I guess?”
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers, Others (mentioned) - Relationship
Series: Steve and Bucky Try To Function [13]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1765621
Comments: 6
Kudos: 51





	(ON HIATUS) Worth a Thousand Words (or: Bucky Takes a Picture for Steve)

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [[Art] The Gift that Keeps On Giving](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28056606) by [Call_Me_Kayyyyy (Cheeky9274)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cheeky9274/pseuds/Call_Me_Kayyyyy). 



> ON HIATUS INDEFINITELY  
> Dedicated to anonymous, who drew a hilarious bit of fanart and inspired this mess. You'll need to go check out the fanart to understand this fic, so scroll back up and go have a look!

December 17:

“Oh, babydoll, it’s so pretty!”

It was the last day of Hanukkah; Bucky smiled down at the lovely present Steve had given him: a photo of them at their second anniversary dinner, surrounded by all of their friends. Steve, who had recently mastered Photoshop, had clearly spent a long time on the photo and had even painted the frame with delicate swirls. It was a lovely, thoughtful gift, and Bucky inwardly cringed when he thought about the manscape pubic trimmer he’d gotten for Steve in return.

Okay, well. He had a week until Christmas, so he could come up with something better  
(and less passive-aggressive).

“You kept bitching about how we don’t have any nice pictures of us, so here you go!” Steve said with a huge smile, bouncing around Bucky and into the kitchen.

“We _ain’t_ got any nice pictures of us.” Bucky walked over to their sofa and placed the photo on the side table, conveniently blocking the view of the ugly potted cactus that Tony had given him a few days earlier.

_(“It’s prickly, just like you, Terminator!”_

_“Shove it up your ass, Stark.”)_

“I shoulda made a copy for myself,” Steve was lamenting as he stirred the hot chocolate he had bubbling on the stove. “That new office Tony set up for me is real nice, but it’s so impersonal. D’you know he actually got me one of those dumb metal clacker ball things? It pissed me off so much I almost threw it right out the window.”

Bucky, who didn’t give a single solitary shit about Avengers business and who subsequently didn’t have an office on the dreaded Fifty-Second Floor, bit his tongue and plopped down on the couch to await his drink.

“It’d be nice to have a picture of you on my desk, actually,” Steve continued, hissing when Alpine used his leg as a scratching post. “Ah, Buck, come get your demon cat! I hate this fuckin’ cat!”

“She _loves_ you.” Bucky grabbed the remote and flipped through the TV to find something worth watching.

“Seriously.” Steve hobbled over, one leg dragging behind him with the weight of Alpine, and handed Bucky their favorite Thor-themed coffee mug. “I’d love a picture of you for my office—Ah, fuck me, Buck, will you do something about this fuckin’ cat?!”

“Hm.” Bucky snapped his fingers at his cat and she released Steve and went slinking off down the hallway. “Hey Stevie, wanna finish watchin’ that singing puppet movie?”

Steve lit up, his pout smoothing over. “Muppet Christmas Carol?” he smiled. “Of course!”

While Steve was invested in the singing puppets, Bucky surreptitiously fired off a text. If his Stevie wanted a photo, he would get one.

December 18:

Natasha was wearing a skimpy Santa lingerie dress when Bucky arrived at her floor . The overcoat barely covered her chest and thighs and her Santa-clad unmentionables were out in the open.

“The hell?” he asked,fighting to keep his eyes above her waist.

“Thor’s coming over in a few,” she answered, and that was…a new and interesting development.

Bucky blinked a few times. “ _Thor?_ Since when?”

She examined her nails. “Since a couple of days ago. It’s not a _thing_ , it’s just a thing.”

“Damn,” he said. “Good for you. Is he as big—”

“What do you want?”

“I need you to take a picture of me for Stevie.”

“This is what you urgently texted me about with the SOS emoji?” she asked dryly. “ _Nyet_.”

She shut the door in his face.

###

Bucky hacked Stark’s security system and slid into his workshop quietly. He tiptoed over scraps of metal and empty to-go containers and found Stark muttering to himself over a huge metal contraption.

“I need you to take a picture for Steve’s Christmas gift,” Bucky said without preamble.

“Robocop!” Stark exclaimed. His hair was a mess, he was covered head to toe in oil, and he smelled like alcohol and sweat. “Excellent timing. C’mere, lift this turbine. How did you guess my password?”

“ _AmericasAss_ isn’t a very secure password.” Bucky walked over and used his metal arm to lift the massive turbine off of the ground so Stark could slip under it. “What’re you making?”

“Hovercraft! StarkCraft, starting price 100k—no, 110k, 5.4% APR with no money down. Getting from home to work will be like walking on air with this newly patented—”

“Well, I sure hope you’re better at it than your old man.”

“…that hurt, Barnes.”

It took about an hour, but Stark finally finished his tinkering and reemerged from under the machinery. He wiped at his eyes and left a great black streak across his face that made him look like a raccoon. “Now, you said you needed a picture of Steve? My pleasure, get him on down here and tell him to wear those little blue running shorts. Ooh, maybe we can do a charity pinup calendar with him, you think? People would buy that. _I_ would buy that.”

This was precisely why Bucky encouraged Steve to dress in baggier clothes. “Not a picture _of_ Steve,” he corrected, lowering the turbine back onto the ground, “a picture _for_ Steve. He wants a photo of me for his desk.”

“Aw.” Stark looked genuinely disappointed. Bucky reminded himself to check his new cactus for cameras. “Well. No can do, T-1000, I have a hovercraft to build, elements to discover, technology to perfect.”

“I just held this fuckin’ thing up for a whole hour and you can’t even take one measly picture for me?!” Bucky was tempted to tear the turbine apart, but restrained himself and instead grabbed a nearby bolt and launched it at one of the Iron Man suits. It hit some exposed circuitry that began to spark and hiss.

Stark was unfazed. “Tell me if you change your mind on the pinup calendar!”

December 19:

Bucky went to Bruce to help, smelled the familiar scent of marijuana in the air, and turned on his heel and resigned himself to his last resort.

December 20:

“Sam.”

Sam, who had been frying up some bacon, jumped about a foot in the air and whirled around to stare at Bucky with wide eyes. “Barnes! Jesus, man, you gotta stop doing that!”

Bucky glanced back to the open window. “But it was open.”

“Christ.” Sam took a deep breath and turned back to his bacon. “What do you want? You want some bacon?”

“No, I’m kosher this month. Well, this week. Um…today.” Bucky placed his offering, a dish of fresh latkes, on Sam’s counter and tried to turn on his charm. “Stevie wants a picture of me to put on his desk and I need someone to take it. Will you? I brought food.”

“What, like a professional photo? Why don’t you go to one of those studios, you know, the ones where they do backgrounds and stuff for you?”

Bucky wasn’t aware that such a thing existed. He cocked his head to the side.

Sam sighed heavily and rolled his eyes to the heavens, muttering something under his breath. “Look, you want me to find a place and go with you? I’ll do it for Steve, not for your pasty ass.”

“Alright.”

Sam looked disappointed. “Great. I’ll text you when I get an appointment. Wear something nice, don’t,” Sam gestured at Bucky’s entire being, “do this alternative white girl shit.”

Bucky was affronted. He was wearing a pink Hello Kitty sweatshirt, black sweatpants, and a pair of lime green socks. “Excuse you, Wilson, some of us know about fashion.”

“Lord give me strength,” Sam said, dishing up a few latkes and some bacon. Bucky scowled down at himself and adjusted his hoodie, then looked back up and nearly felt his soul leave his body.

“Did you just put _ketchup_ on my latkes?!”

——

“So,” Bucky said that night, content with Steve’s head in his lap as they watched _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ , “when you say you want a picture of me? Do you mean formal or, uh, candid, or what?”

Steve, engrossed in his movie and snacking on a 5 pound package of assorted deli meat, hummed in response. “Uh, I dunno, Buck. Just not one where you’re lookin’ like a schmuck, I guess?”

“Fuck you mean?”

“Well, you know our formal wedding photos that you won’t let me hang up? You look like you’re about to go off to Hebrew school.”

The one good thing about being a relationship with your childhood best friend was that there were no secrets, no decorum, and no tact. It was also the worst thing about being in a relationship with your childhood best friend.

“Fuck you _mean_?” Bucky repeated.

“Well, y’know, we were all buttoned up, and you had your hair slicked back.” Steve finished off another piece of turkey and went in for some ham. “Remember when your Ma used to make you dress up for shul? When we were about ten?”

“Yeah.” Bucky’s Ma’s voice echoed in his head: _Button up your shirt, Yakov!_

“Well,” Steve shrugged.

Offensive! Bucky sputtered. “You sayin’ that when I clean up real nice I look like a fuckin’ putz?”

“Nah, I ain’t sayin’ that.”

“Sure you are, smartass!” Bucky crossed his arms and huffed.

Alright, if Steve wanted a nice picture, he’d get one.

…A _real_ nice one.


End file.
